


The Worst to Come

by TaraLaurel1



Series: Midnight, Texas: Missing Scenes [2]
Category: Midnight Texas (TV)
Genre: 2x01, Demon Cancer, Demonic Cancer, Demonic Possession, Evil Manfred, Exorcisms, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Possessed Manfred, Saving Manfred, Whump, head games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: “Stop,” Olivia stepped forward. “Can’t we just tape his mouth shut?"“Hitting a little too close to home?” Manfred’s eye twitched as the corner of his mouth curled up, smile smearing the trail of black that oozed from his nose.Missing Scene 2x01. In an interview, Francois Arnaud (Manfred) talks about “improvising insults” to his co-stars during the exorcism. The only insult I caught was when he yelled “witch” at Fiji...so I’ve taken the liberty to add some in. I may have gotten a little carried away. #ManfredGetsMean





	The Worst to Come

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know about anyone else, but I was fairly disappointed with the lack of Demonic Cancer ridden Manfred. Reminded me of all the hype surrounded Demon Dean from Supernatural. I figured Manny’d be fixed pretty quickly, possibly even by the end of the premiere, but I just wanted more. Maybe he’ll come back later cause Kai didn’t fully fix him, etc, who knows? For now, I can only write my desires into fanfiction reality. Also, in an interview, Francois Arnaud (Manfred) talks about “improvising insults” to his co-stars during the exorcism. The only insult I caught was when he yelled “witch” at Fiji...so I’ve taken the liberty to add some in. I may have gotten a little carried away. #ManfredGetsMean

The drive back into town was silent, save for the occasional grunt or groan from the backseat. Olivia drove, or more like raced, down the desert road as Creek stared at the rearview mirror, at Manfred. They had been a little short on ropes or chains, so Lemuel had put the psychic into the back seat and stayed there with him, one hand on the inflicted man’s shoulder. The vampire leeched just enough to keep Manfred under the veil of consciousness, but something inside him still stirred. It growled low in his throat, made his back arch, his fists clench. And if it wasn’t Manfred’s animalistic noises filling the silence, it was Lemuel, coughing up bits of black every so often. Neither man looked to be holding up too well.

Creek hung up her phone, pocketing it. The screen was cracked from when Manfred had grabbed her and shoved her against the RV right outside his home. She could remember trying to scream out, but his hand had come against her mouth. And then the hilt of that knife was hitting the side of her head and she didn’t remember much else until she startled awake, tied and gagged and breathing desert air.

“They’re all coming,” she shook herself from her thoughts. “They’ll meet us at the shop.”

“Olivia, I suggest we hurry.”

“Pedal’s already on the floor,” Olivia shook her head, casting a glance at her husband.

“Is - is he gonna be okay?” Creek blinked back at Manfred’s face and then away.

“I’m not sure,” Lemuel sighed. “But whatever this is that is happening to him aside, I can’t keep leeching from him. Much longer, and it could kill him. Or me”.

“Yeah, well, you stop and he kills us, so there’s that.”

“It’s not him,” Creek shook her head.

“Of course not,” Olivia turned toward the girl, expression softer.

“Maybe - maybe he’s possessed or cursed or something.”

“Whatever it is,” Lemuel gazed out the window at the fast approaching town sign, “we’ll know soon.”

The car shrieked and bucked as Olivia came to a swift stop in front of the pawn shop. Joe and Chuy were waiting out front and Olivia only had to nod to the back seat for them to come forward. Chuy grabbed the door, while Joe helped Lem with Manfred. The angel paused at the sight, only for a moment, but a moment still, before reaching under the psychic’s arms and heaving him out.

Manfred was limp, save for the occasional twitch or muscle spasm. His skin was coated with a sheen of sweat and dirt and sand. It clung to the open wound pouring sluggishly from the side of his head. That blood was red. But whatever was now leaking out of the psychic’s eyes was most certainly not.

To say it was a shock, well that didn’t seem right, not really. It was hard to be shocked by anything anymore in Midnight. Especially since Joe had already seen Manfred, red-eyed and oozing black blood from his ears and nose. Oh, and that one time he was white-eyed and drowning in the middle of his own kitchen.

But still.

Joe hadn’t known the psychic very well yet that first time. And the second, well, they had all been a little preoccupied with the seven-foot-tall demon trying to kill them all. Now, Joe had the time to look, to really see, and to worry.

Chuy was having much of the same thoughts, if his wide-eyed stare told the angel anything.  

“Get him inside,” Olivia went to open the door, waving Creek inside first.

“We got a chair ready,” Bobo bounded out from the back. “This way.”

The man motioned for them and then stepped out of the way. Creek was hurrying past, casting glances over her shoulder, when he caught her by the elbow. The girl gasped and reared back.

“Sorry,” Bobo dropped his hand. “Are you alright?”

Creek couldn’t answer though, because Lemuel, Joe and Chuy were right behind, lugging an awakening Manfred between them. The angel and demon were taking the majority of the bulk of the body, while Lem lagged, recovering. Bobo pulled her out of the way and she shrank into his embrace. Olivia met them then and the trio followed the men to the back, the store owner and assassin exchanging a glance over the girl’s head.

“You think this can hold me?” Manfred was very much awake now, and grunting as the Joe and Chuy held him down, Lemuel making quick work of his bindings.

Whether it was Lemuel’s leeching, or anger from his plans being foiled, or Manfred finally losing all control, or something - worse, he was different now. His movements, erratic. His words, wrung out and rimmed with rage. Manfred twisted an arm free, reaching and grabbing for his captors. Bobo moved to help, passing Creek to Olivia and picking up a chain.

“Actually, we do,” Olivia barked back before turning to the woman in the corner. “Feej, please tell me you found something.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Manfred’s voice was mangled and he chuckled in a sick sort of choking way. “She couldn’t stop Kolkonar. _I_ had to do that. So what makes you think she can stop _me_?”

“Don’t listen to it,” Joe lifted a hand toward the witch.

“Why?” Manfred’s head twisted, tilting to the side as his body bent the other way. “Because _it_ tells the truth? Manfred didn’t. I didn’t. I hid this from all of you. Because I _liked_ it. I wanted it. To be powerful. To be free. To kill you. All of you!”

“But you didn’t,” Lemuel finished his final knot and stood, Joe and Chuy letting go and backing away. “And you won’t.”

“You so sure about that?” Manfred snapped as he stretched against his bindings, straining and snarling. “Maybe you all will save me the trouble and just kill each other, huh? You know it’s gonna happen. You almost killed her not too long ago,” he cocked his head toward Olivia. “You think a ring and some words in a church are gonna stop that from happening again?” Manfred threw his head back in a hollow laugh. “And that wedding! Even if you don’t kill each other, how is that gonna work out? She doesn’t want to be like you. She’s gonna grow old and wrinkly and ugly. What then? Is she gonna leave you? Or do you leave her? Or maybe you stay together but one day you just leech too much because she’s frail and brittle and she just withers away in your arms.”

“Stop,” Olivia stepped forward. “Can’t we just tape his mouth shut?”

“Hitting a little too close to home?” Manfred’s eye twitched as the corner of his mouth curled up, smile smearing the trail of black that oozed from his nose.

“It’s almost ready,” Fiji announced, pouring the mixture and turning toward Bobo.

“Oh, poor, poor, Fiji,” Manfred glanced between the two of them, growling and growing more agitated with every passing second. “Or poor Bobo. Fiji killed her last boyfriend, and Bobo, well Bobo’s lost just about everyone he’s ever cared about. Mom, dad, fiance. You know Aubrey never moved on, right? Still see her around town sometimes. Watching you. Both of you. Should I tell her you say hi? That you miss her? Or maybe see if she wants to join you? Who knows what Fiji’s into now that she’s -”

“You stop that sentence right there,” Bobo lunged toward Manfred, stopped short only by Olivia’s hand on his shoulder. “How does he even know about -”

“About the dead kid? The one Fiji _fried_ from the inside out? What was his name? Jimmy? Jason? Jeremy! That’s it. You didn’t know Fiji likes to talk to me? Share things with me? Confide in me?” Manfred chuckled and coughed. “Jealous?”

“Nope,” Bobo backed off, shaking his head.

“What about you, _Creek_?” Manfred turned toward the girl, snakelike in his movements before heaving himself against his bindings and toward her.

“You don’t talk to her,” Olivia lifted a finger.

“Come on, Creek.” Manfred twitched and huffed, each movement more rigid and wild, each word seeming harder to form. “Not even a little jealous? You know my history. What I did to Violet. How many other women do you think I’ve hurt? Stayed around long enough to rip their hearts out and then hit the road? Never giving them another thought. Did you really think you’d be different? You had to know that this was the real me. Deep down, you had to. It’s what you like. It’s what you attract. Dark men. Your brother. Your dad. I think we’d all get along, don’t you?”

“Leave her alone,” Joe put an arm in front of her.

“Ah, the _angel_ . The protector. Not doing such a good job now, are you? You know, if you _really_ wanted to protect them all, you’d just kill me. Like you should’ve killed your demon-lover when you had the chance.” Manfred smirked up at Chuy. “He’ll turn on you again, you know. It’s just a matter of time. What’s inside him is inside me. Let it out! Let it free!” Manfred fell into a fit of laughter that rolled into a roar.

“Enough!” Fiji stepped forward, brandishing the small aspergillum.

The mixture of holy water and potion spattered against Manfred’s skin and the man roared, flailing against the ropes and chains. With each word from the witch, the thing in the chair became more animalistic, more feral. More angry.

“-any spell or evil force, may now and forever, return to its source.”

“Witch!”

Fiji jumped back into Bobo’s arms. Olivia might not ever admit it, but everyone in their band of misfit monsters had flinched at that. The voice was no longer their friend’s, but deeper, darker. It seemed to be his final word for awhile too, as the convulsions continued. There was no denying it. Whatever was happening, was getting worse, and fast. The thing inside Manfred was tearing him apart, and Olivia doubted the psychic’s mind or body could last much longer like this. And that just couldn’t happen. She refused to watch him die, again. It had been her, after all, that had tried to breathe life back into his body only a few months ago. That had finally, finally, decided to let just one more person in, only to lose them. Not this time. Manfred hadn’t died then, not really. And she couldn’t just stand there and let him leave them for good now while just merely watched. They had been so fractured before the psychic pulled into town. Neighbors and, some of them, friends, sure. But not family. Not like this. She wasn’t sure if they could survive a hit this hard. And then there was Creek. Who probably couldn’t survive much more of anything, with all she’d had to face and lose.

While the rest of their little family debated, Creek could only hear Manfred. The way his limbs lurched, his eyes bulged. They were losing him. And fast. But what could she do? Her gaze caught movement and she glanced to see Chuy taking hold of Joe’s hand. Chuy had been a full demon, and yet Joe had been able to get through to him. To save him. Creek had to at least try.

Looking back, that would be the worst part of that day for Creek. Not her boyfriend on top of her, strangling her. Not waking up, bound and gagged and terrified. Not even now, when the man she loved was practically rabid.

No, the worst part, was when she did reach him. When the crazed eyes faded into familiar, but fearful, hazel. When the black ooze was replaced with real tears.

When he told her to kill him.

And before she could process what he demanded of her, could answer, could shout “no, never”, could say goodbye, Manfred was ripped back away, replaced by the demon, the thing. The thing that screamed Manfred’s last words, taunting her, challenging her.

And when Kai put his hand to her boyfriend’s forehead, Creek stayed long enough to see those familiar hazel eyes clear and meet hers. And then slipped away, knowing what she had to do now.

Manfred, and the rest of the Midnighter’s, were a little preoccupied to notice the girl’s departure. Manfred hung his head, breathing deeply for a few moments until the breaths broke apart into short, shallow laughs. They dug themselves deeper until they were carving themselves out from deep in his chest. They were nothing like the cackles or howls from before. These were light, carrying with them the weight of the hate and confusion and pain that had been festering inside of him. The laughter lifted it all out until there was nothing left but tears.

He was smiling when he lifted his head again, a real, grade A, Manfred smile, that spread to the rest of them. It was as if every Midnighter in the room had been holding their breath and finally let it out. Fiji moved first, reaching for the ropes around Manfred’s wrists.

The smile staggered and Manfred swallowed.

“Wait,” he exhaled. “Stop.”

Fiji obeyed, freezing where she was, as Bobo brought up a hand, ready to pull her back if needed.

Manfred looked from the witch to the healer. “How do we know? How do I know for sure that it’s gone?”

Kai’s face twitched into something of a warm, half-smirk. “How does it feel?”  

“It feels,” Manfred wriggled a bit, “it feels good. It _feels_ gone.” He hesitated, frowning. “But I don't know. Lately, I’ve been having trouble knowing what’s real and what isn’t.”

“Does it feel real?” Kai lowered his brow.

“Yeah, yeah, it does. But so did talking with my grandmother - until she started telling me to kill all of you.”

“I can assure you,” the healer bent down in front of the man, “this is real.”

“Okay then,” Manfred sighed shakily, “but what if it’s temporary? How do I know it won’t come back?”

“What I do,” Kai stood, “isn’t temporary.”

There was a long moment of silence and Manfred quite purposefully avoided the gazes of his friends.

“Okay, do it.”

It was Bobo and Joe that moved forward this time, the others watching and ready. Fiji disappeared for a moment and returned with a towel, handing it to Manfred once one had was freed. There was a whispered thanks, but he wouldn’t look at her yet. At any of them. Not until the bindings were gone and he could flex his limbs and not feel something crawling around inside of them. Until he was sure nothing was lying dormant, waiting for freedom to seize back control and crack open his friend’s skulls. But nothing was there. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, glanced over the veins on his hands and arms. He listened, strained himself even. No voices, save for the familiar crying and groaning ghosts of the pawn shop. He loosened his fists, and then curled the fingers again. No urges. No homicidal visions.

Nothing.

Ever so slowly, Manfred lifted his gaze, catching a glimpse into each of his friend’s faces. Friends, who if things had gone differently, could very well have been dead by his own hands. He wanted to laugh again. To cry. To jump up. He decided on just standing for now, and when he moved to hoist himself out of the chair, there were his friends, his very alive friends, there helping him. He shook as Joe and Bobo helped heave him upright. It could have been from relief or release. Or it could have just as easily been from exhaustion. Either way, he didn’t protest as the pair propped him up. By the time he had wiped the towel over his face and scrubbed out his ears, Manfred had found the strength to stand steady on his own.

When Bobo and Joe backed away, he almost missed their touch. Didn’t know if he’d ever be greeted by one of Fiji’s warm embraces or Bobo’s slaps on the arm or Joe’s squeeze of the shoulder. Didn’t know if he’d have anything with any of them ever again. Forgiveness. Friendship. They all had every right to march him to the town line and tell him to walk, and Manfred half expected it.

At least Creek would understand. At least he’d still have her to come home to after all of this, even if their home couldn’t be Midnight anymore.

Lifting his gaze, Manfred readied himself for the righteous rejection and anger. Waiting for, what he thought, could be the worst to come.


End file.
